Rage: Traitor
by RedKaddict
Summary: Part of the "Rage" series. David reflects on Jack's betrayal. Oneshot, canon, no slash, part of a series.


Title: Traitor  
Series: Rage  
Author: RedKaddict  
Category: Newsies  
Genre: Drama  
Rating: G  
Warnings: None  
Summary: David reflects on Jack's betrayal.  
Disclaimer: I do not own any of this. Newsies belongs to Disney. All I have is the idea, and I'm very proud of it. I would appreciate if nobody stole it from me.  
Notes: Most of the Rage series deals with movieverse comics characters, but this one fit, so I decided to include it. A list of the other _Rage_ stories can be found on my profile. Leave reviews!

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**Rage: Traitor**

I'm not known for having a temper. I'll admit, I can be uptight sometimes, even a bit indignant. But angry? Doesn't happen very often. Mostly because I'm a fairly forgiving person. Right now, though, there's a rage coursing through me that I've never felt before. It's betrayal.

When I found out about Jack's parents, I was a little hurt. But it wasn't unexpected, either. I hadn't really believed him, not with his habit of "improving the truth", as he puts it. I could forgive him for that. When Denton walked out on us, I was frustrated and disappointed that he would give up on us so easily, allow himself to be pressured by these people. I had assumed he would take over with Jack gone, rally the boys and lead us through to triumph. But he didn't.

I was scared. I knew our cause would die without a leader. So six of us went that night to break Jack out. And he refused to escape. He actually turned around and went back. Again, I was hurt, and very, very confused. But not angry. Still not angry. I just didn't understand. I could think of no logical reason for him to stay behind bars while his boys continued what was now a losing battle.

Because I knew, as he must have, that we were going to lose this fight without him. There was absolutely no way we were going to make it without his golden tongue. Granted, the words _were_ mine. But he had such a way of putting them across, such a confidence I don't think I could ever dream of having. The prospect of _me _leading these boys never even crossed my mind, it was so incredibly impossible.

And then, the next morning, we stood outside the gates and watched as our great leader walked out with the scabs. For many, it was like a weight settling on our hearts. But for some, it was like this fire was ignited, leaping up to fuel our cause anew. And it was bitter. It was angry.

It was rage.

Like I said, I'm not normally an angry person. I don't let my emotions get the better of me like that. But when I saw him, standing there with the other scabs, dressed up in his new set of clothes with a stack of papes in his hand, something inside me snapped. He looked us over, like he was measuring our resolve. And then his eyes settled on me. It was like a challenge of some sort. So I stepped forward.

I can honestly say that Jack Kelly – or whatever his name is – is my best friend in the whole world. But I have never in my life felt so much disappointment for one person. He'd betrayed us all, sold us out. And suddenly he disgusted me. I challenged him, tried to get at whatever sense of decency he might have had. But he threw it right back in my face. The rage burned brighter inside me with every word he said. And the more he talked, the more I began to see just how fake he truly was. I couldn't stand it anymore, all his talk about only taking care of himself, so I screamed at him that we didn't need him anymore.

And that's when I realized it. His words were _mine_. His leadership was _mine_. His strike was _mine_. _I_ started it. _I_ put the ideas out there. _I_ made the rules and organized the boys. He just spoke the words where I didn't have the confidence to. It was me all along. He snapped right back that I didn't have the guts. And in that moment, I knew what I had to do. And I knew that I _did_ have the guts, with that rage burning inside me.

I turned around to face the others, waiting, watching, expectant. I hesitated a moment, momentarily unsure, and glanced back at him. He shrugged at me, taunting. Daring. And I lost it. For the first time in my life, I lost it. I rushed at him, with every intention of wiping that condescending look right off his face. If the bulls hadn't held me back, I might have. I could've sworn I saw him sigh in relief when I jumped at him, but it must have been because they stopped me. It had to have been.

The rage was a full-blown inferno now. And I knew, finally, that we didn't need Jack as much as we thought we did. Because we had me. And I'm the next-best thing. After all, he may spin a good thread, but I'm the one with all the ideas. And now, thanks to him – ironically enough – I have what it takes.


End file.
